


Brave Face

by winterisakiller (sparkinside)



Series: Brave Face [1]
Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Betrayal, Cheating, Consequences, F/M, Taking responsibility, lying, price of fame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-07 15:36:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18876112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkinside/pseuds/winterisakiller
Summary: A wedding is one of the happiest days of one’s life. It is the beginning of the future and for Amelia Evans this was no different. Tom HIddleston stood watching her as she walked down the aisle while considering every choice that had brought him here. For better or worse, his life was fundamentally changed.





	1. PART ONE

**Author's Note:**

> So full disclosure this story came about completely by accident. I had this vague idea in my head and it probably would have stayed that way had I not been talking to [RedKitsune](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedKitsune/pseuds/RedKitsune) and said “So I have this idea…”. This literally grew from a ‘huh, this should be straight forward’ to ‘holy fuck what have I gotten myself into?!’. All in all this is a 13,000 word one shot that has been split into three parts to make for easier posting/reading. Hope you all enjoy.

The room was filled with the bright, potent scent of flowers. Everywhere he turned, Tom Hiddleston found garlands of wildflowers in pinks, and blues and yellows lining the walls, the windows, and the aisle. It was beautiful and so perfectly her. She had always loved wildflowers, had always had them spread in bunches throughout her tiny flat. Their scent always seemed to cling to her skin. It was one of the many things he could now admit openly to always loving about her. She was calm and open and gentle in her care. Such a wonderful contrast to his own ambitious and vibrating nature. They had always been such a contrast. Two people who on first glance didn’t seem right at all but on further inspection just seemed to click.

 

His head rose as he heard the door slowly creak open and the swell of violins filling the room. She stood, arm in arm with her father, smile blinding and wide. He felt his knees go weak at the sight of her; blonde hair piled elegantly at the nape of her neck, green eyes filled with warmth and happiness covered ever so slightly a veil of white lace, the soft and shimmering white of her dress with its floral overlay and cream ribbon cinching her waist. She was a vision. He could hear the murmurs of the people surrounding him and could see the faint blush that stained her cheeks.

 

Tom fought the tears that were threatening to spill as she continued her slow walk down the aisle. He could see the shimmer in her eyes as her father leaned over to whisper in her ear. She was truly stunning; regal and graceful and absolutely perfect. Each step she took echoed the beating of his heart. And suddenly she was before him, a bright smile on her face, another step and she passed him.

 

He could feel the lump in his throat growing as her father paused at the end of the aisle and, with a kiss to her cheek, turned and offered her hand to the man beaming before her. Tom wanted to hate him, wanted to scream and curse and beg her to change her mind. To pick him. But he held his tongue. That choice, that desire, was something he had absolutely no right to. And the bitter knowledge of that burned.

 

Try as he might, Tom couldn’t make himself focus on the words the minister spoke. He could see the man’s lips moving, knew enough to get the gist of what was happening, but none of it seemed real. The only thing his mind could grasp was that Amelia, his dear, sweet Amy, was standing before him pledging her life to someone else. And he had no one to blame other than himself.

 

He had met Amelia Evans what felt like a lifetime ago. They had been in the same circles at Cambridge; interacting but never quite connecting until the summer before their final year. He’d always thought she was a beautiful woman; bright and intelligent and not afraid to show it. She kept him on his toes and while they argued over points of philosophy and belief, Tom found himself captivated.

 

By graduation they were nearly thick as thieves, with family and friends alike asking when they would finally settle down and make things official. Tom had always brushed them off; Amy was special to him, that he could not deny, but he was young and there was so much of life he’d yet to experience, to explore. Marriage and commitment were wonderful ideas, but not something he was even remotely ready to contemplate. She seemed to understand and accept his resistance; agreeing they were still young and this was not the right time for them to entertain such notions.

 

They’d taken things how they’d come. Amy had been one of his largest supporters when he’d been accepted into RADA. She had gone to as many of his productions as she could between her work and the other commitments that consumed her days. Her support had meant everything and when he’d been approached by an agent and given the opportunity to really, truly do what he loved on a potentially wider scale, Amy had been right beside him encouraging him.

 

It hadn’t been an easy path; he was frequently away filming, auditioning, getting his face and name out there. There wasn’t an opportunity he didn’t take or a part he didn’t try for. All the while he’d been secure in the notion that Amy would always be there, in the background offering her love and her support.

 

And then seemingly out of nowhere it happened.

 

Suddenly his name was on everyone’s lips, he was sought after for roles, wanted at parties, his face was on billboards and buses. He’d done it and Amy had been there, the pride and happiness radiating from her in waves. Tom had thrown himself into the melee completely; there were so many chances he had to take, so many people he couldn’t not meet. This boom wouldn’t last, he knew that, and he could not let himself miss any chance, any moment. And she was there, quietly cheering him on from the sidelines. A gentle word of comfort when he needed it. His voice of reason and encouragement.

 

But along with opportunity came an attention that Tom was equally baffled and fascinated by. Suddenly, he was the one women approached at parties, the one they stopped in the streets, the one they talked of and fantasized about online. It had seemed so surreal at first. He couldn’t understand what had changed, what was so different about him that caused the heads of admittedly stunning women to turn and give him a second glance. It was immensely flattering and he’d flirted shamelessly with him. What was the harm in enjoying the attention they lavished on him?

 

He hadn’t truly acted on any of it. Not at first. A whispered word here, a touch there, a brush of lips against a cheek that lingered just a fraction too long. It was almost a test, how are would they let him push? How far would he let himself? How much could he get away with? Hollywood was such a long cry from the life he’d known in London. And what was truly the harm if Amy would never know?

 

So he continued to dance along that line of flirting and seduction until he’d found himself pressing the warm and willing body of a gorgeous woman who’s name escaped him into the soft mattress of his hotel room. Her nails in his back, her breathless cries in his ear and they chased release in each other. And the next morning it was easy to convince himself that it had been just a momentary lapse in judgement. It was done and over with, though he’d kept the number she’d left on the pillow beside him, why he couldn’t truly say. It wouldn’t happen again and there was no reason at all that Amy had to know about it. They were happy and this would be a complication that neither of them honestly needed.

 

Tom could still so clearly picture her face the day Amy had confronted him. The day everything had changed. Her flat had been his first stop, save for dropping his luggage off, since landing at Heathrow that morning. It had been far too long and he’d missed her. He hadn’t been prepared for the quiet, cool reception she’d given him. He’d found her sitting in the living room, staring at the opened magazine in her lap. Amy had raised her head up as she heard him enter the flat; pain, confusion, and a desperate sort of hope shining in her bright eyes. Wordlessly, she’d stood and held out the magazine to him. Colorful photographs greeted him; images of himself and…Holly? Hannah? Heather? (God, he couldn’t remember her name) kissing and grinding against one another in the backseat of a cab. Followed by images of them kissing and heading into an elevator at his hotel. Fuck, Luke was going to murder him.

 

“Is this true?” Her voice was steady but quiet, her eyes pleading with him to tell her that these pictures were false, that he hadn’t done exactly what she feared he had.

 

Tom swallowed thickly, casting his eyes quickly downward. _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck_. He tried to gather his thoughts, tried to figure out what he was going to say.

 

“Thomas, please tell me you didn’t do this…” She only ever called him Thomas when she was cross with him.

 

“Amy, you have to understand…” he pleaded, needing to keep her calm. He tried desperately to think of a way to explain. Amy would understand, she always understood. Hell, she had seen firsthand just how much his life had changed in the last year. These things happened. And it wasn’t as if he and the girl (…God, what was her name?) were serious. “It was just one night…”

 

Clearly, that had been the absolute wrong thing to say. Amy paled; he watched in horror as all the color drained from her face. He reached out to her but she backed away as if she’d been burned. She shook her head, eyes filling with tears. “You son of a bitch,” she hissed. “You fucking, FUCKING bastard.”

 

“Amy, please…” He took several steps towards her, his hands raised in supplication. She had to understand. It hadn’t meant anything. He had to make her understand.

 

“No,” she bellowed. “No! Fuck you, Hiddleston!” She shook her head in angry disbelief. “To think I even thought that you…” Her voice trailed off and after several moments she let out a quiet, mirthless laugh. When she raised her head again and locked her eyes with his, Tom was taken aback by the anger and fury in them. This wasn’t the gentle, understanding Amy he knew. “We are finished,” she hissed. “I want you gone and I never want to see you darken my doorway again. Get your shit and get out.”

 

And with that she turned on her heel and left. He winced as he heard the door slam behind her. 

 

Tom found himself standing in the now empty living room, wondering just what the fuck had happened; just how all of this had spiraled so far out of his control. He’d never seen Amy like that. Never. She was the calm one, the rational one. She was the one he had always turned to when he needed a voice of reason. This wasn’t his Amy.

 

She now was gone.

 

The idea didn’t want to compute. She would have to come back, Amy always came back. They’d had their fair share of arguments throughout the years and even when he knew she was so angry she was fit to burst, even when she left to clear her mind, she’d always, always, _always_ came back. But as the minutes crept by his conviction began to waiver.

 

Tom swallowed thickly. Surely she hadn’t meant it. She was angry, clearly, and had needed to scream at him. To vent. And once she had calmed she would come back and they could talk about all of this rationally.

 

But soon an hour had passed. And then another.

 

Nothing. No sound of her feet on the stairs, no jingle of keys in the front lock. Just nothing.  

 

He pulled out his mobile and cursed. He’d completely forgotten that he had placed it on silent mode while he’d been on the train earlier that day and hadn’t yet switched it off. He hadn’t been quite sure what he had expected when he turned on the screen. But it certainly hadn’t been this. Nearly a hundred texts and far too many missed calls glared back at him from the tiny screen. All from Luke.

 

 _Shit. Shit. Shit_.

 

Bracing himself he cued up his voicemail and worked through the waiting missives. Each message grew steadily more frantic until finally ending in: “If you do not get your sorry ass into my office yesterday I will drop you, so help me God.”

 

With a weary sigh of resignation, Tom made his way out of Amy’s small flat, making sure to text Luke that he was indeed on his way. He needed the man in his life; his career depended on him having someone he could trust to keep his name, his face, in the right circles. And as far as he was concerned, Luke was it.

 

The meeting had been more or less what he had expected; nearly an hour of both Luke and his agent giving him a sound and thorough bollocking about his carelessness. Yes, he admitted, he’d been stupid and reckless. Yes, he would make sure he was more discreet in his extracurricular activities from this point onward. Yes, Amy knew. No, she’s currently not speaking to him. No, he doesn’t think she will say anything to the press. Yes, he trusts her.

 

He tried to ignore the way Luke was looking at him; both in weary frustration and resigned yet seething bewilderment. He’d known that Luke and Amy had gotten on well on the occasions they’d had the chance to interact. Just as he was well aware that Luke, his friend, did not approve at all of what he’d done. But Luke, his publicist, would do all he could to make the worst of it go away. To spin whatever the fallout was in Tom’s favor. That was what he was paying him for. But he couldn’t shake the unease he felt at Luke’s silent disapproval. At his quiet condemnation.

 

Looking back it was easy to see just how far off track he’d let himself go. How easily he’d let the flattery and unexpected praise of his peers, the fans, the press go to his head. How easily he’d let himself be led by his desires and not by his head. All he had seen was the warm smiles and the willing bodies. God, he’d been a complete and utter ass.

 

But as he’d left Luke’s office that day, Tom had been so convinced that he had everything in hand. That this would eventually blow over and Amy would come back to him. He didn’t let it worry him when she hadn’t called by the next morning. Nor the following afternoon. She was angry and she needed time to calm, time to think things through. But by that evening, the unease had slowly started to creep in. And when the boxes arrived the following morning that unease began to blossom into a full blown, disbelieving fear. He’d signed for the boxes in confusion and carried them into his living room.

 

Inside he’d found various books, pieces of clothing, and several other small bits and bobs that he hadn’t realized had found their way into Amy’s flat over the several years they had been together. And sitting on top of the final box of clothing was the key he had given her to his own flat along with several pictures and various things he had given her over the years. He shook his head in disbelief. No, this had to be some sort of mistake.

 

Without thinking, he grabbed his phone and his keys and hurried across town to hers. There had to be some other explanation for this. There simply had to be. But only as he tried his key in the lock only to find it wouldn’t budge, did it start to dawn on him that maybe he had been terribly wrong in his belief that everything would be alright. He tried the key again. Nothing. A white hot panic surged through him. This couldn’t actually be happening. He knocked on the door. No answer. He tried again. Nothing.

 

Maybe she wasn’t home. That must be it. _Okay_. He pulled his phone out. He would call her and she would clear all of this up. He dialed the number quickly, shoving the phone against his ear. “We’ve sorry this call cannot be completed as dialed. Please check that the number you have dialed is correct and try again.”

 

Tom pulled the phone from his ear and stared in stunned disbelief. Wordlessly, he hung up and dialed again. The same message greeted him. _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck_. He didn’t know what to do. Couldn’t seem to think straight. This wasn’t happening. He couldn’t say for sure how long he stood there, staring at her locked door. All he knew was this wasn’t how things were supposed to be. They were Tom and Amy, no matter what happened they were always Tom and Amy.

 

When his mobile rang sometime later, he’d half convinced himself that it was Amy calling to explain, to forgive. But his mother’s name was what greeted him as he pulled the phone from his pocket. He let out a resigned sigh and answered. “Hey mum.”

 

“Tom, darling, are you alright?” Diana’s voice was as warm and soothing as it had ever been. For that brief moment he was a little boy again and sure in the knowledge that everything would be alright because his mum was there. “…I’ve not heard from you in several days.”

 

He leaned back against the wall, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “I’ve been a bit busy as of late, mum. Nothing to fret over. Are you alright?”

 

She chuckled softly. “I’m well, dear. Quite well. Looking forward to tomorrow afternoon.”

 

“Oh? What’s happening?” Something was niggling at the back of his mind but he couldn’t quite seem to catch hold.

 

He heard the exasperation clearly in his mother’s tone. “Seriously, Thomas, don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.” He didn’t speak for several moments as the realization dawned. He cursed at himself, yet another disaster to add to the ever growing list. After it became clear he wasn’t going to speak, Diana let out a sigh of her own. “You and Amelia are supposed to be coming by. Sarah is here and Emma plans on trying to stop by sometime in the late morning. It’s been ages since I’ve had all of my children together under my roof. Please tell me you’re still coming.”

 

“I…I should be able to mum,” he hoped she hadn’t caught the uncertainty in his words. “But I don’t know about Amy…Somethings come up…” He didn’t know what to say to her, how to even begin to explain what was becoming startlingly clear; Amy was gone and he wasn’t completely certain any more that she would be coming back. _But she will_ , he told himself fiercely. _She has to_. “But um…I’ll be there, mum. Alright? I can’t not see my mum.”

 

“Good lad.”

 

He set out early the next day, hoping to avoid as much of the commuter traffic that always seemed to clog the roadways as possible. He was acutely aware of the silence in the car and found himself missing the way Amy would hum along with the radio or spout random facts about the places they passed. He shook his head, trying to clear those thoughts away. This would all blow over, it had to, and if not…He tried not to think on it. But if not…Then he would move on. It wasn’t as if she was the only woman in the world. There were others. Yes, she was important but she wasn’t where the world started and ended. He was still young, he had plenty of time to figure it out. And in the end either she would be there or she would not. But it wouldn’t come to that. He was certain.

 

The house was much the same as it had been the last time he’d been there…God, how long ago was that? Christmas maybe? Yes, Christmas. Now it was heading into late August. He shook his head as he killed the engine. He couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face as the front door opened and Diana jogged out onto the drive towards him. Tom quickly climbed out of the car and pulled her tightly into his arms. God, he’d missed this. Missed his family.

 

“Oh my darling boy,” she whispered into his chest as she returned his tight hug with equal fervor. “It’s so wonderful to have you home.”

 

“It’s good to be home,” he breathed into her short, white hair. He hadn’t realized just how much he’d missed this, missed home, until that moment. “Are Sarah and Emma here?”

 

He felt her nod into his chest, “They’re inside.” She pulled back and watched him with a quiet, but no less intense, scrutiny. Her brows slowly rose in concern. “Tom,” she started, her tone soft and light. “What’s happened? And don’t you dare tell me nothing. I’ve known you all of your life, don’t you go thinking you can lie to me.”

 

Tom let out a soft sigh. This was certainly not the place he wanted to have the conversation he knew his mother sought. “Let’s get in the house shall we?”

 

Diana narrowed her eyes at him, staring for several moments before quietly nodding. “Alright. But then, young man, you are going to talk. Something’s happened and it’s clearly got you out of sorts.”

 

He nodded and allowed her to lead him into the house. There was something about coming back to the home you’d grown up in. It was comforting in a way that Tom couldn’t quite put into words. He could hear the soft rumble of his sisters’ voices echoing from the kitchen. Diana, who was several paces ahead of him, made her way into the kitchen he heard her call out, “Look who I’ve just found in the front drive.”

 

“Tom!” his elder sister yelled, jumping up to embrace him as he made his way into the brightly lit room. A laugh of surprise fell from his lips as he gratefully returned her embrace. “Glad to see that fame hasn’t gotten you forgetting your family, little brother,” she teased with affection. Sarah pulled back and he saw her looking behind him in expectation. “Where’s Amy? It’s been ages since I’ve seen her...”

 

A sharp jolt of unease threaded through him. “She um…She couldn’t make it,” he finally answered, offering what he hoped was an apologetic smile. He could see the confusion in Sarah’s eyes. Amy was as much a part of the family as he was, as far as his elder sister was concerned. She never missed a chance to visit, especially not when Sarah and Emma were sure to be there. He cleared his throat and tried to think of a way to explain. “Things…Things haven’t been going too well as of late and we’re rather on…on a bit of a break.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his left hand, not knowing quite what else to say.

 

“You’re unbelievable!” Emma hissed at him as she jumped up from her seat opposite, her light eyes narrowing as she brought her hands down on the counter with surprising force causing everyone to jump at the sudden noise.

 

Diana blinked in confusion. “Emma! What on earth…?”

 

Tom watched as his younger sister gathered herself before she turned towards their mother. He could see the disbelief and ire burning in her eyes. “Tom’s become quite the liar as of late.” Her words were matter of fact and felt like a slap in the face.

 

“Now wait just a minute…” Tom started, taking several steps towards Emma, his own eyes narrowing in anger.

 

But Emma stood her ground, arms crossed at her chest, staring her elder brother down. “You are not on a break, Tom. You went off and fucked around and she left you and you bloody well know it.” She took a deep breath, marshalling her thoughts. “And what I can’t begin to fathom is why the fuck you did it. What were you thinking? Were you even thinking? My God, this whole mess has seriously gotten to your head, hasn’t it? Because the Tom I know…My big, dork of a brother…That Tom wouldn’t do this.”

 

The words felt like a blow to the stomach, knocking the wind from his lungs, and he stood gaping at her. Around him, he could hear the confused and agitated voices of his mother and Sarah, firing questions at both him and Emma. He couldn’t make sense of any of it. “You don’t understand,” he finally managed to choke out. “This is between Amy and me, it’s none of your business!” The anger was coming back in full force. How dare Emma say such a thing! He was still her brother…That hadn’t changed. He had simply needed to adapt to the changing world around him. That didn’t make him a bad person. That didn’t change who he was fundamentally. Why couldn’t she see that? And just what did she think gave her the right to stick her nose into a situation that clearly did not concern her?

 

“She told me, Tom,” Emma hissed, ire warring with disappointment in her eyes. “I’d stopped by her flat to return a book she’d lent me and I watched her nearly fall to pieces in front of me. My god, she was near hysterical! I’ve never in all the years I’ve known her, ever heard nor seen Amy so bloody shattered! She loved you and you threw that away! How could you?”

 

“It was a fucking mistake!” The words flew from him in panicked anger. “Things just got completely out of hand! It’s not like I sought out to fucking hurt her!” He finished, his chest heaving with the effort and with the anger coursing through him.

 

“Thomas.” He froze at the sound of his name and found himself turning slowly towards his mother. Diana’s voice had taken on the quiet, disappointed tone that he’d only ever heard when he’d well and truly messed up. He could see the disappointment clear in her eyes and it cut him near to the bone. “What have you done?” 

 

He couldn’t stand the look on her face and hadn’t been able to meet her eyes as he’d stumbled through his explanations. His reasons. But he could feel her eyes, along with Sarah and Emma’s on him, and wanted nothing more than to disappear. For the floor to swallow him whole. Anything to make it stop.

 

It was with a weary exhaustion that Tom finally pulled himself from the car later that evening. His head was spinning and he felt far older than his thirty-one years allowed. Cursing, he fumbled with his keys the front door lock and once it gave way, pushed his way inside the darkened hallway. He could still so clearly see the disappointment in his mother’s eyes and the judgement and anger in both of his sisters’. How things had gotten so far off track, he didn’t know. Yes, he’s made a mistake and he could and would own that. He’d been stupid and careless, but even so…He ran his fingers through his hair. He didn’t know what else to do. It’s not like he could take any of it back. And unless Amy talked to him, he couldn’t work with her to move past it. If she would let them. No, she had to. She’d always been there, always had his back. She couldn’t just walk away now.

 

And though he knew it was futile, he checked his mobile once more; the stubborn hope that she had called refused to let him be.

 

Nothing.

 

He felt the tightening in his chest grow as he fought to control his breathing. She would come back and everything would be fine. He had to believe that. He simply _had_ to. But the weeks passed and nothing. Her number still refused to connect no matter how many times he tried to call, her work refused to accept his calls, and she never answered her door when he knocked; it was as if she’d disappeared.

 

Sooner than he would have liked, the world came calling and was once more he descended into the hum and rush of what his life had become. Promotions, interviews, meetings about possible projects and charity events. The next several months of his life passed in a blur. But every night, without fail he would try to call. And every night he would receive the same “this call cannot be completed” message when he’d dial her number.

 

Until everything came crashing down.

 

Tom was utterly exhausted. He’d been awake for more hours now than he even cared to count and he knew in all honesty that he should have long since been sleeping. He _had_ tried desperately to sleep. But sleep was ever elusive and, try as he might, it steadfast refused to come. So he’d found himself pacing around his hotel room instead; another basic, boring room in a hotel whose name he couldn’t even recall let alone its actual location. He’d been running around so much as of late that he’d begun to feel a constant and distressing sense of disconnect with the world around him.

 

He’d been pacing for the better part of an hour before stopping and grabbing his distressingly silent mobile from the desk. Clutching it tightly in his hand, he took a deep breath and dialed the number he knew by heart. He held his breath as he waited…For it to ring, for Amy to answer. _Please, please answer_ , he pleaded. _Please._

 

“We’re sorry but the number you have dialed is no longer in service.”  An oddly cheering pre-recorded voice answered.

 

The line clicked off.

 

Tom pulled the phone from his ear to stare blankly at its screen. Disconnected? No, that couldn’t be right. He refused to accept that. Absolutely refused. He took a deep breath and dialed again.

 

“We’re sorry but the number you have dialed is no longer in service.”

 

Click.

 

Without conscious thought, he pulled back his arm and threw the phone at the far wall with all the force he could muster. A giddy wave of hysterical laughter rushed out of him at the sound of the glass screen cracking on impact. It sounded hollow and so very wrong to his own ears. But he couldn’t seem to halt it now that he’d begun. It was as if someone had flipped a switch in him and all he could see was a violent shade of red. Books, pillows, clothing, anything his fingers touched ended up thrown across the room, heedless of the mess or noise  they made as he did so. And just as suddenly as he’d snapped, he came back to himself, eyes widening as he took in the destruction around him.

 

Tom staggered backwards, nearly tripping over his feet, and sat wordlessly on the edge of the bed. His mind racing along with his heart and the world still felt alarmingly off balance, leaving him gripping the edge of the mattress in a vain effort to steady himself. Panic roiled through him as the realization began to sink in. Amy was gone and she wasn’t coming back. Oh god, she wasn’t coming back.


	2. PART TWO

Tom couldn’t say for sure how long he sat on the bed, hands cradling his head, his breathing coming in soft, swallow pants; it felt like hours and like no time at all. The abrupt rap of knuckles on the door slowly brought him back around to himself. Mechanically, he pulled himself to his feet and shuffled towards the door. He unlocked and pulled it open, eyes blinking at the bright light flooding in from the hall. He found Luke standing there, exasperation painting his features.

 

“I’ve been calling for the last...” His voice trailed off as he looked past Tom and into the room, his eyes widening. “Tom…What the fuck happened?”

 

“She’s really gone.” The words fell from Tom’s lips in a broken whisper. “She isn’t coming back.”

 

Luke blinked at him in confusion for several moments before a pitied understanding spread across his face and shook his head. “No, Tom. I really don’t think that she is.” He brought a comforting hand down onto Tom’s shoulder. They stood silently for several moments before Luke spoke once more.  “You have a meeting in half an hour…” Luke trailed off as he caught the look of bleary confusion on Tom’s worn face. He sighed and elaborated, “With the producers regarding your latest auction...would you like to postpone it? I can make a few phone calls...”

 

Tom’s head shot up and he vehemently shook his head. “No. No, I can’t. Absolutely not...This is important. If I put it off now I’ve as good as lost the role…No…” He took a deep breath, gathering himself. “No. Give me five minutes and we can go.” He didn’t wait for Luke’s response before turning back into the room and letting the door swing shut behind him.

 

Five minutes later, cleanly shaven and as respectable as he could make himself, Tom followed Luke down into the hotel’s lobby and into a waiting cab. He was a bundle of nerves, his leg bouncing involuntarily as the cab meandered its way through the early afternoon traffic.

 

It had taken nearly the entire journey for Tom to gain hold of himself. To calm his frayed nerves and slip back into the confident and controlled professional he needed to be. But by the time he had entered the conference room, Luke and his US agent, David, at his side, and shook each of the producers’ hands, it was as though nothing whatsoever had happened. He was charming and engaging, a consummate professional by all standards. They chatted amicably and while nothing had been set in stone, the producers seemed keen to have him on board and for that he was exceedingly grateful. With a bright smile and a firm handshake, Tom thanked them for their time and the opportunity to discuss the roll before following Luke and David from of the room.

 

The ride back to the hotel was spent in silence; Tom staring out of the window at passing traffic, Luke sorting through emails while never quite taking his eyes off of his friend’s tense form. As soon as they’d pulled in front of the lobby, Tom had excused himself and headed straight for the hotel bar. He didn’t care that it was only just late afternoon and by all means far too early. He was in desperate need of a drink.

 

Three whiskeys later, Tom was feeling little pain. The smiles that he’d been forcing all day had slowly started to come easier and he’d found he’d been able to simply shut the quiet, defeated voice that plagued his mind throughout the day off. It was wonderful. He chatted openly with the people surrounding him; laughing and joking, sharing stories. Forgetting.

 

At one point he found himself distracted by a flirty, feminine laugh tickled his ear, pulling at his attention as she pulled lightly at his arm. He turned to find a petite blonde watching him through lidded eyes. She was absolutely gorgeous; thin frame wrapped in a well-fitting navy dress, hair flowing over her tanned shoulder, eyes bright and attentive. He wasted no time in returning her smile and refilling her drink. She whispered her name into his ear and he’d managed to forget it as soon as she’d spoken the last syllable. It didn’t matter anyway, he didn’t need to know her name to know just what it was she was offering or to allow himself to take it.  

 

They finished their drinks quickly, exchanging knowing touches and heated looks. The tension burned between them. There was no question where this was headed. She leaned over and whispered a number into his ear. It took several moments for its meaning to become clear in his clouded mind. Her room number. He nodded and placed his glass neatly onto the bar.

 

Her hand fully ensconced in his, Tom pulled her from the bar and quietly towards the elevators. His eyes darted around automatically, making sure the path was clear. No one seemed to be paying him any mind and he felt a part of him relax. The last thing he wanted, or honestly needed, was for another set of photographs of him to be taken and released. Luke would flay him alive.

 

As the elevator doors slipped silently shut, he pulled her fully against him, his lips trailing the heated path from her earlobe across her neck and finally to her mouth. She moaned at his touch and he reveled in the sense of power it called forth in him. She wanted him and by god it felt amazing. They stumbled from the elevator as the doors opened and quickly down the empty hall into her room. A trail of clothing followed them from the door towards the large bed.

 

Their hands wandered, grabbing and caressing as they went. He had forced himself to pause enough to ensure they had protection; he had far too much at stake to risk everything for the sake of pleasure. She’d smiled and pulled a foil packet from the table near the bed handing it to him with a wink. It didn’t take long for him to lose himself in sensation; to shudder at the feel of her hands on his length, to lose himself in the warmth of her body. He chased pleasure through her and felt her do the same. It was simple and messy and overwhelming and he gave himself willingly to it.

 

He collapsed onto his back, panting as his lungs fought to obtain the oxygen they so desperately needed. He could feel her warm body pressed against his, her hair tickling his shoulder and for just a moment if he squinted just right, he could pretend she was someone else. His heart lurched at the thought and he quickly shoved it away. No. He steadfast refused to even entertain that idea. Not here, not like this. Not now.

 

When he was certain that she was asleep, Tom untangled himself from the bed clothes and quickly dressed. He didn’t bother leaving a note or his number. This wasn’t that kind of arrangement. He made his way silently back to the elevator and finally into his own room. It had been straightened sometime in the several hours since he’d left it, owing to Luke no doubt. On his pillow he found a new mobile with a note attached. ‘ _Try not to break this one_.’

 

He shook his head with a sigh, moving to place the phone onto the dresser, and tossed the note aside. Stripping himself once more he padded into the bathroom and into the shower. Turning the water as hot as he could stand, he washed himself without active thought. He lingered briefly in the soothing heat, enjoying the feel of the beating water on his back, the way he helped to ease the tightness in his shoulders and the tension in his neck. He’d stay there forever if he could. Reaching out he turned off the taps and slowly climbed out into the chilled air of the bathroom. He grabbed a towel from the rack and wrapped it loosely around his hips, heading back into the main room and letting himself collapse on the bed in hopes of catching whatever feeble amount of sleep he was able.  

 

The next several months sped by in much the same way. During the days and evenings, Tom played his role well; he attended events, smiled and chatted with everyone he’d met, was charming and polite without fail. He prepared for his latest roles and made sure to keep in touch with his family as often as he could. Things, however, remained frosty between Emma and himself but he had hope as time passed the chilliness between them would thaw.

 

At night, however, he was scarcely, if ever, alone. The flings rarely lasted longer than a fortnight and they were always discrete. Never at his hotel or his home and never where an inopportune photograph could be captured and sold or, at least, not easily so. He never made any of the women he bedded promises and he never asked for more than the simple sharing of their bodies. It was infinitely easier that way; no expectations, no demands, no promises. Especially with the whirlwind his life had become, and, in all likelihood, looked to remain. There simply wasn’t time for anything more…And honestly he hadn’t wanted anything beyond a few passionate nights. Far, far easier to keep things this way.

 

If Luke had any objections to Tom’s behavior, he played those cards close to his chest. He was well aware of what was going on, Tom was certain of it, but said nothing. There were times, though, when Tom was sure he could see a hint of disappointment and disapproval in his publicist’s eyes. But still Luke never said a word. Which, as far as Tom was concerned, was all for the best. As long as his indiscretions remained out of the papers Luke had little grounds in which to give him grief. He was an adult, and an unattached one at that, his choice in bed partners was his own. He was discreet and he was careful. Never without protection and never where he could be caught. He’d learned that lesson far too well.

 

And he was happy, for the most part. He was able to live a life that most people never could; he traveled the world, had the chance to meet and interact with people he’d admired and respected, got to do what he loved and not have to worry where his next meal would come from. He was lucky and he knew it. Things weren’t perfect but they were working, it was all he could ask for.

 

By late the following September, Tom found himself back home without out the looming threat of months of living out of suitcases and hotel rooms. Rehearsals for _Coriolanus_ were due to begin in the coming month and he was overjoyed to be able to sink his teeth into such a role, to explore this character and walk around in his skin, especially if meant being able to sleep in his own bed.

 

It was to be a small production in the West End and the actors he was set to work with were among some of the best in the field. He was honored and nervous and overjoyed all at once. It had been far too long since he’d been on stage, he’d missed it. He’d loved the adventure of constantly moving but months and months on end of it had left him longing for a small bit of stability. For a moment to catch his breath, metaphorically, before diving headlong into the chaos once more. And when this role had fallen into his lap, he’d grasped it with both hands and hadn’t looked back. There wouldn’t be another opportunity to do this.

 

He’d spent the last free evening before rehearsals were set to start out in SoHo with friends. He’d not had the chance to do something like this with these people in far too long. Laughter had filled most of the night as he sat trading stories and trying to catch up with all he’d missed while he’d been away. He’d stumbled over his shoe lace as they’d started their migration towards the next pub and called out for them to carry on while he stopped to tie it.

 

Tying one’s shoe became infinitely more difficult when one was well on their way to being completely and thoroughly pissed. Tom found himself muttering curses as the laces stubbornly refused to comply with his wishes. It had taken far longer than it should have to tie the blasted things than he’d bargained for and he’d started after his friends, still cursing, when something caught his eye. He turned, without thinking, towards the window of the small Italian restaurant he’d stopped beside and froze.

 

It had been well over a year since he’d seen her and now suddenly there she was. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a single plait that rested on her shoulder, her dress was dark green and wrapped around her figure in the most alluring way, a warm smile lit her features as she walked hand in hand beside a tall dark haired man that Tom didn’t recognize. She looked happier than he’d seen in her in ages and it felt as though his heart had shattered in his chest. She’d moved on. Of course she had; he’d known that someday it would happen. How could it not? But he hadn’t expected it to sting quite this much.

 

He turned on his heel and stumbled off in the direction he hoped was towards the next pub he and his friends had collectively agreed on. He couldn’t think, could barely breathe. Why here, why now? He was _fine_. He’d been fine…And now…Tom shook his head, trying desperately to clear his thoughts. It took what felt like forever for him to find what he was certain was the correct pub. And upon doing so, he pushed through the crowded door, and scanned the room for a familiar face. No one. He searched again to make certain. Not a single one. Just fucking great.

 

Tom made his way towards the bar and dropped onto the nearest open stool. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Amy’s face flashed before him; her eyes bright and smile wide. The way she used to always look at him…The way he saw her look at the man tonight. Bile rose in his throat and he fought the urge to scream in frustration. Dammit, why now? He’d been _fine!_

 

He hadn’t been seated long before he felt the warmth of a hand resting on his shoulder.

 

“Hello handsome,” a voice rich as honey whispered in his ear, sending a spasm of shivers down his spine. Tom turned, his eyes settling on the tall form of a curvy red-head. It was a touch too dark for him to make out the color of her eyes with any degree of certainty but he could clearly see the desire in them.

 

“Well hello,” he practically purred in response. He flashed his best smile, the one he knew would seal almost any deal. The one he’d used on every woman that’s managed to catch his eye.

 

“Anna,” she stated, her eyes locked on his in anticipation, a manicured eyebrow lifted in questioning response.

 

“Tom,” he answered, his own brow raising. “Now, Anna, may I buy you a drink?”

 

She laughed and nodded enthusiastically before leaning over to whisper her drink of choice in his ear, her lips brushing against his skin. He smiled at her once more, knowing it wouldn’t take much to move this flirtation along. She was clearly eager and more than willing. He turned back to the bar, waving to catch the attention of the barkeep.

 

Several drinks later found them ensconced in a darkened corner, his hands resting dangerously low on her hips. He pulled her towards him, pressing his lips fully against hers. She took no time deepening the kiss, grinding herself into his pelvis. He groaned against her lips as he felt his body respond. This was what he’d needed. And desperately.

 

Tom let her lead him out of the pub, both of them shivering slightly in the suddenly chilled air. He wasn’t sure which of them hailed the cab but he doesn’t hesitate to climb inside. He half listened as she rattled off her address, not much caring exactly where she took him as long as the night ended with her beneath him, and him inside of her.

 

Her flat was situated on the end of a relatively quiet street. The stairs that lead into the building were half hidden in shadow and she fumbled with the key several times before finally getting the lock open. They stumbled inside, his hands immediately landing on her hips to pull her body against his. His fingers danced beneath the hem of her short blue dress and made quick work of divesting her of it. Her hands, in turn, moved with just as much speed shedding him of his shirt and trousers. They stumbled between heated kiss towards the back of the flat and into her cramped bedroom.

 

Kicking off their remaining bits of clothing, Tom pulled her onto the bed situating himself above her heated form. She looked up at him through lowered lashes, raising her hips to press into his. His lips crashed against hers, pulling her tightly to him as he settled between her spread thighs. A quick jerk of his hips and he’s seated deeply inside of her. He felt the rush of air from her lungs hot against his cheek. Their rhythm is erratic and he knew it wouldn’t take long to push himself over the edge. His let his hand snake between them to work her towards her release as quickly as possible. Their moans filled the small room mingled with the frantic sound of skin against skin. A mumbled curse was his only warning before his rhythm faltered. He felt her clamp tightly around him as he pumped once. Twice. Three times before stilling.

 

Wordlessly, he rolled off of her and onto his back. An all too familiar unease plagued him, one that should have burned away in the wake of release, and he couldn’t understand why. Why hadn’t this worked? This had always, _always,_ worked. Beside him, Tom felt the mattress shift. He turned his head to see her roll up to sit on the edge of the bed. His eyebrow rose in silent question. She nodded down the hall. “Bathroom. This was nice but I’d rather not completely ruin my sheets.” With that she stood and padded out of the room.

 

  _Shit_ , he thought, realizing that he had his own matters to attend to. Tom rolled himself over until he was sitting on the edge of the bed. Mindlessly, he reached down, preparing to pull of the used…Panic lanced through him. _No. No. No. No. Please God, no_. He looked down again, praying he’d been mistaken, but there was still nothing there but his own skin. God, he was going to be sick.

 

It took moments to scramble around the room, grabbing his pants and shirt. He tugged them on and stumbled into the hallway in search of his jeans. He fought the urge to vomit, his mind screaming that he had been stupid. So very, very stupid. He heard her voice call down the hallway, “Where are you going?”  

 

He spun in his heel to face her. “We didn’t use…Why did you let us…Why didn’t you stop me?” The question fell from his lips without thought. He watched her face flitted through a mired of emotions.

 

She shrugged, “it’s not that big of a deal. I’m on the shot if that’s what you’re afraid of.”   

 

Tom sputtered in disbelief. “Are you serious? Is that what I’m…?” His voice trailed off, incomprehension spread across his features. He took a deep breath and snapped, “that right now is the very least of my worries.” Without another word, he pulled on his jeans and shoved his feet into his boots and left.

 

He lost his battle with his nerves halfway down the stairs of her building and bent over the railing, vomiting onto the darkened sidewalk. Coughing and dry heaving, Tom fought to gain control of himself. It took several minutes for the world to cease tilting violently from side to side and once it had, he righted himself and continued on his path. He walked for what felt like hours before finding and waving down a passing black cab.

 

“Where to?”

 

Tom rattled off the address without thought and it wasn’t until the cab had rolled to a stop that he realized just where he was. He paid his fare and stepped out into the night. With a quick look upwards at the light shining through the upper story window, Tom forced himself to take a deep breath, before climbing the stairs and leaning on the doorbell.

 

With a shuddering force the front door swung inwards revealing a red faced and angry Luke clad in checked pajama bottoms and a dark t-shirt. “Just what the fucking hell do you think you’re playing at? Do you have any idea what fucking  time it…?” his voice trailed off mid-tirade as his eyes settled on Tom’s disheveled and shaking form.  “Tom?” He breathed in confusion. “What’s…?”

 

Tom swallowed thickly, running his hands through his hair and blinking back tears. “I fucked up, Luke. I think I fucked up really, really badly this time.”


	3. PART THREE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this particular story is over, but Tom's over all journey is not. There is still more that I have in mind and once I get myself into gear there will be more.

Luke blinked at Tom in confusion before ushering him inside. Whatever it was had happened to bring Tom to his door in such a state and at this hour, Luke was certain it was definitely not a conversation for the front step. He closed the door and hurried to follow Tom into the living room. By the time Luke rounded the corner into his living room, Tom had collapsed onto the couch, legs spread and head resting in his opened hands as he rocked slowly back and forth.

 

He took a deep breath and came to stand before Tom’s hunched form. “Tell me exactly what’s happened.”  

 

Tom stuttered through his explanations, unable to look Luke in the face, his were eyes downcast and his hands wringing together before him; he’d been drinking and picked up a woman he didn’t know at a pub, they’d gone back to hers and had sex, and only after had he realized that they’d not used protection. The mortification burned as he admitted just how badly he’d fucked up. How could this have happened? How could he have been so fucking careless?

 

He felt Luke’s eyes burning into him as his publicist fired off questions and demanded clarifications of him in rapid succession. Exactly which pub? Whose idea was it to leave? Did he remember her address? Her name? What had she said when he’d realized? Where there any photographs taken; at the pub, on the street, in her flat? Did she know who he was?

 

Tom was visibly shaking once more as Luke’s questions continued to rain down on him; his stomach tying itself in knots, his mind racing, and god he was sure he was going to be violently ill. Tears welled in his eyes and he couldn’t seem to stop them. God. Oh god what had he done? How could he have been so fucking, _fucking_ stupid? He dug his fingernails into the palms of his hands, trying to ground himself, trying to keep the world from splintering around him. He couldn’t breathe; his chest burned with the effort and he could hear the worst sort of wailing noise that he realized to his horror, was coming from his own lips. But he couldn’t make it stop.

 

Luke’s sudden grip on his shoulder, so tight he was sure it would leave fingermarks, was only thing Tom could focus on. He heard Luke’s voice in his ear but couldn’t focus on his words. It felt as if the world was closing in around him. Luke shook him hard enough to rattle his teeth. “Tom, stop. It will be alright. We’ll fix it. Just breathe. We can fix it.”

 

Slowly Tom raised his head, his eyes wide and glassy with tears. “How? God, Luke, how are we going to fix this?” The words were jumbled together, almost incoherent. How could they possibly fix this mess? She would go to the press, she would ruin him. Everything he had worked so hard for would be gone. His mother would be so bitterly disappointed in him…What if she ended up pregnant? He couldn’t be someone’s father....Round and round the thoughts circled, bumping and colliding until they were all Tom could see.

 

“Tom! Stop! Look at me.” Fingers forcefully grabbed Tom under the chin and pulled his face upwards until his eyes locked with Luke’s. “I will worry about all of that. Me. That is my job. Just breathe for me. In and out. And in. And out. Good, just like that. In. And out. And in.” He could feel his racing heart start to slow. The tightness in his chest easing just a fraction. “We will figure all of this out.”

 

It took until well after sun up for Luke to get Tom calm enough to talk coherently. He plied Tom with tea as he went through the questions he needed answers for once again until they were both weary with exhaustion. Tom couldn’t remember the building number but was pretty certain he could recall the street name. He was able to give Luke the name of the pub and the woman’s first name, Anna. He also told him that she’d stated she was on birth control after he’d confronted her but that he had no idea if she was being truthful. She hadn’t seemed to recognize him, at least he didn’t think she had, and he couldn’t recall seeing any photographers around the pub or in her street.

 

“What I can’t understand is how this got so far out of hand, Tom? I know you’ve not been a saint since…” Luke’s voice trailed off for a brief moment, eyes darting to the side as he caught himself from uttering her name, before continuing. “But you’ve always been careful and discrete. This…Tom, what happened?”

 

A familiar burst of pain shot through Tom as his mind replayed the way she had smiled at the man who wasn’t him. At the way she’d seemed so happy. “Amy,” he whispered, the name sticking in his throat.

 

“Amy?” Luke repeated, dumbfounded. He’d known Tom’s change in personal behavior had stemmed from the disintegration of his relationship with Amy, but it had been well over a year since he’d last seen her. What could have possibly happened to trigger this, now? “What about Amy?”

 

Tom let loose a mirthless chuckle. “She was on a date…I knew sooner or later that she would…That she’d move on…But I just…I hadn’t thought that it would be so…” He couldn’t find the words, his thoughts a tangled mess. How could he even begin to put into words the kind of pain that had ripped through him when he’d realized what he was seeing? When it became clear she’d moved on. How could he put into words the numbing fear that overwhelmed him when he began to understand what he thought was his own closure was nothing more than a plaster to a broken bone. He’d been lying to himself for near on a year; he wasn’t over them. Wasn’t over her and the mess he had made of their once happy life.

 

Luke pulled off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Oh god, Tom.”

 

He flinched, knowing just how horrible all of this sounded; just how badly he’d let himself come off the rails. He hadn’t been over it, not even slightly, no matter what he’d been telling himself. And just as apparent was the fact he’d been chasing away his own guilt and loneliness in the bodies of others. It was stupid and dangerous and only now did he start to see just how badly he could fuck up his career, his life. “I know, dammit. I know.”

 

Silence overwhelmed them, neither man speaking for several long moments. A sigh of resignation fell from Luke’s lips. “I need to make a few calls, you might as well head up to the guest room, Tom. You’re dead on your feet.”

 

Tom nodded and pushed himself to his feet and towards the stairs leading to the second floor and guest room. There was little point in fighting Luke on this, the man was nearly as stubborn as he was; though Tom wasn’t sure if sleep were even possible no matter how physically drained he might have been.

 

And despite everything, he’d fallen asleep almost as soon as his head had hit the pillow.

 

The next several weeks were a blur of activity. Tom had thrown himself into rehearsals with a frenzy that caused quite the comment amongst his fellow actors and the production crew. He hadn’t paid it any mind. Working helped him cope with the uncertainty that had plagued his days.  Along with whatever legal wrangling Luke had to orchestrate, he’d booked Tom in for testing a little over a week following his breakdown and arranged a meeting with a therapist; “Just because I think you need to really talk with someone. Please just give it a try. You owe yourself that much.”

 

Waiting for the results of his bloodwork had Tom on edge for days; torn between worrying just what he’d do if anything came back positive and not daring to let himself hope that he had dodged that particular bullet. He’d been short and ill-tempered which served his portrayal of Caius Martius well, but left him in ever growing knots. When the phone call came nearly a week later, Tom hadn’t been sure whether he’d wanted to laugh or to cry. Clean. All clean. The doctor cautioned him that he would be wise to be retested in six months’ time, just to be smart. He’d booked the appointment and called Luke straight after to make sure that he had the time cleared. He was lucky, far luckier than he’d deserved.

 

Rehearsals began to wind down as the December premiere date grew ever closer. Things were coming together, they were nearly ready. Tom was of two minds; both ecstatic to finally bring his character fully to life and terrified that once he had he would be torn to pieces. He was talented, he’d known that, but this was something so much bigger than himself. What if he had bitten off far more than he could possibly handle? He fought to shake off those feelings; working to recognize them for what they were, the jittery nerves he’d felt before the start of any project. Silly things he knew plagued even then best of the craft.

 

Opening night was upon him far sooner than he’d expected. The rush he’d felt as he walked onto the stage the first night nearly bowled him over. This was what he’d always wanted to do. And he owned it. Owned the stage. Owned his role. It was cathartic, stamping around on stage night after night; losing himself in someone else’s anger and frustration, letting his own shine through just a small amount.

 

He’d reluctantly agreed to see the therapist Luke had recommended. She was an older woman, in her well preserved fifties if he’d had to guess; no nonsense and seemingly unshakable. Their first few sessions were awkward; Tom having no idea how this sort of thing was actually supposed to work and dreading having to talk about his own failures with anymore let alone someone he honestly didn’t know. She’d been unfailingly patient with him, reminding him that these sessions were at his pace and therefore he could talk about any and everything he wanted or not. He’d asked her if she knew why he’d come and she’d answered by turning the question around on him.

 

Tom had stumbled far more than he’d walked in those early days and once he started talking he couldn’t seem to make himself stop. He’d talked mostly about that stupid, careless night and how he’d let himself get pissed enough to place not only his career but his life in jeopardy. He spoke about his fears of what the long standing consequences of his actions would be; what if there were a child? What if the tests were wrong and he ended up sick or worse dying? She had listened with a knowing presence, acknowledging that his fears were valid ones but that their likelihood diminished with each passing day. And if such things were to come to pass, then he would find a way to work through them.   

 

The end of his _Coriolanus_ run in January found Tom physically exhausted but in good spirits. It hadn’t been an easy run but he was proud of the work they’d accomplished. Josie had been a delight to work with and he found himself hoping he’d be granted the opportunity to do so again in near future. He had a few short weeks to himself before he would have to gear up for the start of filming for his latest project in Toronto. And then it Belfast to start the process all over again before finally heading to Louisiana

 

When his mother had caught wind of just what the year looked to bring for Tom, she’d pulled him aside and asked if he was sure this was what he’d wanted. He offered her his best smile and told her he understood her concern and would take care to keep himself together. These were chances he couldn’t risk not taking. His career was steadily on the rise but that wouldn’t last forever and he intended to take in as much of it as he possibly could. Diana had merely pursed her lips and nodded, telling him that while he was a grown man he was still and would always be her child. Her worry was something that went hand in hand with that.

 

Tom had thrown himself into filming _Crimson Peak_ with seemingly all he had. He was often one of the first of the principal cast on set and one of the last to leave. The hours were long and more frequently than not fell into bed at the end of his days but Tom was honestly enjoying every moment. Mia and Jessica were a delight to work with; both immensely talented and wickedly funny often making even their longest and most grueling days enjoyable. Thomas Sharpe was not so much a departure, character-wise, for him but a challenge nonetheless. He’d dived headlong into working to understand who this dark and brooding man was and how his life and choices had worked to shape him. He wasn’t an evil man nor was he a good one. And Tom found working within that grey area to be profoundly interesting. Guillermo was bursting with ideas and had gladly welcomed and encouraged Tom’s in turn.

 

The end of filming several weeks later found him settled on yet another plane heading towards another city and the skin of another yet character for him to inhabit. This time a physician who descended into madness within the chaos and destruction of the community in a high rise.  As the plane ascended, Tom found himself watching the landscape beneath him shrink. An unexpected pang of regret resounded within him. Toronto was a beautiful city and, in retrospect, he wished he had taken more time to explore it. But there was no time now.

 

Belfast came and went in what felt like a blink of an eye. He was grateful to be home, if only almost, and for a brief space of time. The days he’d spent on set were long ones and more often than not evenings found him all but crawling into his bed. He’d enjoyed the experience and the chance he’d had to work with actors he’d admired for years, but he could feel the pull of exhaustion threatening to drag him down. But there was little time to stop and rest. Once again before he’d been completely ready, he was on yet another plane and heading towards yet another city and yet another character; a real, living person and the stakes seemed insurmountably higher.

 

Louisiana was impossibly hot, especially for September, and he hadn’t expected the wave of heat that engulfed him as he disembarked the plane that first day. Tom found himself often thinking longingly of the cooler shores of his home that had never seemed more far away. Filming wasn’t set to start for weeks yet but Tom had jumped at the chance to get a head start on becoming the man that had been Hank Williams. Immersing himself in both music and dialect, he picked the brains of those around him; people, books, whatever he could get his hands on, in order to have a greater understanding of the man whose shoes he would embody. Hank Williams had been an interesting and incredibly flawed man; beneath his smiling veneer lay a deeply troubled and broken man and it had struck a chord in Tom that he hadn’t expected. Watching as this man’s life spiraled around him hit far, far too close to home.

 

It had been nearly ten months since that night and not a signal word had come from Anna. A profound sense of relief flooded through Tom at the realization that somehow he had managed to make it out of that disaster as unscathed as he had. The bloodwork he had redrawn several months back had also thankfully remained clean. God, he had been far, far luckier than he’d deserved. And as he found himself contemplating Hank and the demons the man had carried on his back, Tom had never been more grateful that he’d been given his own wakeup call that cold late September morning.

 

He'd flown home for a brief two weeks during a lull in filming, needing the comfort and familiarity of home. His mother had welcomed him with open arms, commenting on his noticeably leaner frame. “For the film,” he’d assured her, though that did little to lessen the creases that seemed to form whenever he came into her sight.

 

He’d been settled at the kitchen table one morning, when he’d stumbled across the announcement. Tom had been flipping through the pages, not paying overmuch attention as he chatted with his mother who had insisted on making him breakfast, despite his protests, when a familiar name caught his eye. The words faltered from his lips as his eyes settled more firmly on the name and the words surrounding it.

 

**_‘The engagement is announced between Edward, son of Dr. and Mrs. Gains of Watford, Hertfordshire, and Amelia, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Evans of London.’_ **

 

Tom felt his heart cease as the meaning behind the printed words sank in. Amy was engaged. She was going to marry a man that wasn’t him. Objectively, he’d known it was only a matter of time; she had always been the marrying type and one day some fool would recognize this and offer her his hand. But in the quietest recesses of his mind he’d always assumed that someday it would be his ring she’d wear, his last name she would take. That somehow, some way, they would find each other again. But now…

 

He shook off his mother’s concerns when she noted his abrupt change in behavior, her eye falling to the paper he’d carelessly folded beside him on the table, insisting he was fine. Wordlessly, she’d crossed the kitchen and plucked the paper from the table and scanned its pages. Her eyes darted from the paper to his face. “Oh Thomas…”

 

Luke’s call had come that afternoon; both concern and professional duty causing the man to reach out. He’d waived Luke off, reassuring him that yes he would be alright, doing his utmost best to avoid acknowledging the way his heart lay shattered in his chest. It was clear to Tom that Luke hadn’t believed a word he’d spoken, but he hadn’t pressured him to say it aloud and for that Tom was grateful. Two days later he was on a plane back to Shreveport.

 

He’d thrown himself once more into filming with a single minded focus which once more caused comment from co-stars and crew alike. His commitment and drive to make this performance his best, despite the uncertainties and the doubts cast about in the press, was something that had cause no little stir. And he found it almost cathartic, playing this broken man. Living through the choices that had lead Hank down the tragic path his life had become gave Tom a way to exercise his own demons. He had been there, losing himself in drink and in the arms of women, and he’d almost let it destroy him. This time, with his character, he could see just what his life could have been. Just how close he’d come to ruining it all. It was humbling and heartbreaking.

 

When filming wrapped in December, Tom found himself anxious to start his next project. _The Night Manager_ wouldn’t begin filming until sometime in March and he’d taken the downtime before to work his way through both novel and script; throwing himself into table reads and meetings with the cast and directors. He would also take on the helm of producer and it was a daunting but exhilarating feeling. He’d found a sort of solace in his work that he hadn’t felt in a long while.

 

Christmas had been a quiet affair; he’d visited with his mother and sisters and had taken time to travel to see his father. He’d done his best to avoid the questions he could clearly see in their eyes, the concern, trying to smile and pretend, just for a moment, that everything was truly okay. He’d met with his therapist when he could, now that he was physically in London he could resume face to face meetings rather than the weekly phone calls he’d slowly grown used to. He’d opened up to her then about Amy; his cheating and its consequence and of finding the announcement and the concrete proof that he’d finally lost her for good. She’d been understanding and empathetic, letting him talk his own way through and offering support when he’d needed it.

 

February had him standing beside his dear friend, Ben, in a small church on the Isle of Wight as he married the women he’d known for years but had only in recent years been able to call his own. The ceremony had been absolutely stunning and it was clear to him just how much Ben loved his new bride. He’d worked hard to keep his own envy at bay and had wished both Ben and Sophie all of the best.

 

Spring through midsummer saw him traveling to Switzerland, Morocco, and Spain with a brief sojourn back to England in-between. He juggled his dual roles as best he could; always striving to learn as much as he could about the craft, the locations, and the people he worked with. It had been a learning experience and one he’d been grateful to have earned. Once production had wrapped, Tom could feel the exhaustion’s pull on him. But there were promotional tours that had come due; interviews and photo calls, and the constant sense of perpetual movement. So he had dutifully smiled and gave the world the bright and charming Tom Hiddleston they’d come to know and expect. He’d laughed and told antidotes from filming, signed posters and DVD cases and god knows how many other bits and bobs until his hands ached, posed for photograph after photograph, and never once complained. How could he? This was simply a part of what gave him the chance to do what he’d loved for a living. Yes he was tired, and god he missed his home, but he was able to do so much, see so much, and surely it was worth the price he’d paid in the end?

 

When he’d finally made it home, what felt like eons later, and finally been able to shut his front door and breathe, it was to an empty house and a terrifyingly large pile of mail; dutifully dropped off by one of his manager’s assistants. The silence after so many months of chaos and noise felt almost suffocating despite his overwhelming desire to simply be alone. He rifled through the various letters, bills, and magazines without much thought or care as he puttered around his bright kitchen making a simple dinner of fried eggs and toast.

 

He’d been so focused on making sure not to burn the eggs (he’d only managed it once and by god getting the smell out of the house had been a nightmare) that he’d missed it the first time through. It wasn’t until he’d settled at the dining room table, dinner in hand that he noticed the thick, off-white envelope. His name and address were written across the front in small, neat script. His eyes immediately flicked to the return address and felt his heart sink as recognition dawned.

 

Tom tore the envelope open as quickly and carefully as he could. The invitation was simple in its design but beautifully made. Thick cream colored cardstock with dark green text in a fine looping hand and tiny drawings of wildflowers decorated its edges. The words written in the looping hand stung far more than he’d expected. He’d known this was coming, thought he had come to terms with it, but seeing it before him, printed in no uncertain terms felt like an ice shard to the heart.

 

**_Mr. and Mrs. Henry Evans cordially invite you_ **

**_To attend the marriage of their daughter_ **

**_Amelia Grace Evans to Edward Michael Gains_ **

**_Ceremony to take place 23_ ** **_rd_ ** **_April 2016 at 1500_ **

**_In the parish of St James_ **

**_Reception to follow_ **

 

A sheath of paper behind the invitation gave the details of the reception and other needed information, but none of it made the slightest bit of sense to Tom. The only thing echoing in his mind was that he’d lost her; for good this time. He sat staring at the cardstock until his dinner had long since gone cold. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or cry.  Wasn’t sure exactly what he felt.

 

With shaking hands he fumbled his mobile from his pocket and dialed without letting himself think on what he was doing. “You’ve seen it, then?” Emma’s voice was softer than he’d expected. They’d drifted in the last two years, something Tom had hated. She may be his annoying little sister, but he’d loved her fiercely and had felt her loss acutely.

 

“Yes,” he managed to breathe, his head falling into his opened palm. He fought to control his breathing, to keep himself in check. The last thing he had wanted was to fall to pieces, especially now. He didn’t have the right to do so; he’d forfeited it the second he’d made the decision to stray. This, all of this, was nothing less than what he’d deserved. “I just,” he started, the words catching in his throat, “I don’t understand. Why? Why did she send me this? Does she…Was it to hurt me because I hurt her?” Even as he spoke the words, he knew they weren’t true. It was a childish hope on his part; because if she had sought to hurt him with this then it would mean she still cared. And he desperately wanted her to do so. Nor could he believe she was callous enough to want to hurt him out of spite. But while Amy had never been a saint, she had never, ever, been vindictive nor cruel. And despite the intervening years, Tom doubted she’d have changed so drastically.

 

“Oh Tom,” Emma whispered, “You know she wouldn’t do that. She doesn’t hate you.” She paused, taking a deep breath. When she started again, he could hear the hesitation in her voice. “She wanted to, especially at first…And I can’t say I blame her. You hurt her badly…But she doesn’t hate you, Tom, I don’t think she ever really could.”  

 

A choked gasp escaped him at her words. He’d known he’d hurt Amy, and hurt her badly, but hearing it so bluntly put sent spasms of guilt and pain through him. All Amy had ever done was love him and he’d thrown it right back in her face. She should have hated him, would have been well within her rights to do so. And knowing that, despite everything, she didn’t felt so terribly unfair.  “Then why?”

 

“I don’t know…Maybe…Maybe to show you that she is actually okay. That she’s been able to move on. That the hurt didn’t break her…And maybe she hoped that if you understood that you could take comfort in it.” Her words were hesitant and Tom desperately wanted to believe them, but he knew it wasn’t something he felt he’d earned or in all honestly deserved.

 

“Tom?” Emma’s voice cut through the confusion in his mind. “Tom are you still there?”

 

He cleared his throat before speaking, “Yeah, Em, I’m still here…I just…I don’t know what to do.”

 

Staring at the invitation now, Tom wasn’t sure what to think or how to start to precede. He could clearly imagine just what Luke would say. _‘Just let it be, Tom. Mark yourself as not going, send a gift if you want. But for the love of god, man, let it be.’_ And he had to admit that would be the smarter path. She had said her peace in her own way, the best thing for him to do with it was left it be. But there was a part of him, growing steadily louder and more insistent, which wondered if actually going would be the best way to finally, _finally_ , put this in the past. If he could just see it with his own eyes; see Amy happy and settled, then he would be able to move on as well.

 

Tom had mailed the RSVP back (with a tick mark in the attending box) within the week, not letting himself think overmuch on it. He’d waited nearly another before mentioning he had done so to Luke, who as he’d expected, had nearly blown a gasket at the news. “Dammit Tom, what the FUCK were you thinking? Actually GOING to the wedding? Have you taken complete leave of your senses?”

 

He’d let Luke rant, not knowing exactly what to say. A part of him knew that by actually going to this, he was playing with fire. A very real, very dangerous fire. He’d nearly ruined everything after simply seeing her in the street with another man (Edward he now assumed), why the fuck did he think he could handle seeing her married? Luke knew better than anyone just how bad an idea this actually was; in both a personal and potentially PR related manner.

 

“I can’t take it back now, Luke,” Tom finally cut in, his voice quiet and subdued. “I need to do this. I need to face this head on. I can’t keep burying my head in the sand. And maybe, just maybe, after it’s all said and done, I can try to let this go. I need to try.”

 

The months that followed were a blur of activity. Between the intense but profoundly enjoyable principal filming for _Skull Island_ and various promotional and charity endeavors, Tom found himself staring down the 23rd of April far sooner than he’d been prepared for. He’d managed to forget, if only for a time, that the date had been growing ever closer and suddenly facing its imminent arrival made his knees buckle and his gut churn. But he had made his decision and he would not let himself back out of it, no matter what the cost.

 

And now, here he stood, watching as Amy promised to love, cherish, and honor someone else for the rest of her days and her groom promised to do the same in turn. Jealously and guilt burned brightly inside of him but Tom forced himself to smile and offer his support and congratulations as Amy and her new husband walked back down the aisle hand in hand.

 

He could see clearly the joy within Amy; she was radiant with it. And he was truly happy for her; happy that she had found someone to love and cherish her the way he hadn’t, happy to see the same joy radiating from the man by her side. But it did little to lessen to the sense of loss and agony of knowing that had he been a better man, had he truly appreciated what they had been, this could have been _their_ wedding. _Their_ happy ever after. But he hadn’t been and there was little he could do to change it now.

 

In the flurry of activity, Tom found his chance to slip away quietly. He’d known it was the height of rudeness to slip away before the reception but knew just as acutely that no matter how talented of an actor he was there wasn’t any way he could keep his façade going in any convincing manner for much longer. And the absolute last thing he wanted was to ruin this day for Amy. He’d taken enough.

 

She caught his eye as he made his way down the side stairs and he offered her what he’d hoped was a convincingly warm smile. She offered him one in return before her attention returned to the man at her side. She looked so unbelievably happy and it burned far more than he’d expected it to. The loneliness, the emptiness that he’d let his life become. Yes, he was successful and by any other standard his life seemed ideal, but it wasn’t until that moment Tom realized just how isolating it was. He had his family, his friends, his work, but somehow that didn’t seem enough anymore.

 

He fought the urge to tell the cabbie to take him to the nearest pub. It would be so easy to let himself drink and forget, to slip back into those hold and familiar habits. After all it was just one night. But he’d known far too well how destructive that path could be and he couldn’t, wouldn’t, let himself fall down it again. Not now. Instead, he rattled off his address with a weary sigh before leaning his head back against the seat, closing his eyes.

 

The house was dark and quiet on his return. He stumbled up the stairs, narrowly avoiding a collision with the suitcase he’d stashed by the landing that morning. Tom rushed his way through a shower before collapsing onto his bed. His flight to New York was set for midafternoon the next day, another reason Luke had been so deadest against his attending the wedding; the itinerary Tom had been forwarded the day before laying folded on top of the largest case. Another round of promotion and events; dinners and networking, smiling and playing the role he knew all too well. He found himself dreading this trip as much as looking forward to the opportunity it would offer him. Something would have to change though he couldn’t seem to put his finger on what or how; just that for his own sanity, it must.


End file.
